POV: ISABELLA
Isabella woke to sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows of her penthouse bedroom.
Her body ached everywhere.
Between her legs especially...a deep, throbbing soreness that made her wince when she tried to shift position.
Last night had been... intense.
Brutal.
Exactly what she'd needed.
She reached across the bed automatically, expecting to find empty sheets.
They always left.
Every man she'd brought home in the past three weeks had been gone by morning. Slipping out while she slept, leaving her to wake alone with nothing but soreness and shame.
But her hand found warm skin instead.
Isabella's eyes flew open.
The man from last night was still here.
Sitting on the velvet couch by the window, fully dressed in last night's clothes....dark jeans, black shirt....smoking a cigarette and looking out at Rome's morning skyline.
He hadn't left.
Isabella sat up slowly, pulling the silk sheet around herself, suddenly self-conscious.
